Astrology is a symbolic language that uses planets, signs, houses, and aspects as a grammar to name human experiences. It is not a predictive science; when tested as a predictive tool, it does not hold up. When approached as a language, however, it offers a vocabulary for individuals to interpret their own history, psyche, and lineage, without turning the birth chart into a fixed verdict.
I begin this series with the question where almost everyone starts off on the wrong foot: “Does astrology work?” Before that, there is another, more honest question: What is astrology? For a long time, I felt I had to defend the birth chart to earn the right to work with it. Today, I realize that question was poorly framed. Understanding what astrology *is* changes everything regarding what it can promise. To me, it is a symbolic language—the sky as an alphabet, not a sentence.
For a long time, I would open my chart looking for a ready-made, almost childish answer: "Will this work out?" I expected the stars to hand down a verdict or grant external permission so I wouldn't have to make a choice. That changed the day I faced a tense transit and realized the naivety of that attitude. The real question was never whether the heavens would bring relief, but rather: what is this movement within me calling upon me to sustain? At that moment, the chart ceased to be a crystal ball and became a mirror demanding maturity.
Does astrology cause or signify? A question the ancients were already asking
This discussion goes back nearly two thousand years. In the third century, Plotinus dedicated a treatise in the Enneads (II.3) to the question of whether the heavenly bodies act as causes. His answer has stayed with me: the stars do not make things happen; they indicate them. He likens the stars to letters inscribed in the sky. In his treatise on fate (III.1), he returns to this image: the stars serve as letters for those who know that alphabet.
This is where the perspective shifts. If a planet acts as a cause, I am a victim. If a planet signifies, I am a reader—and a reader is someone who interprets, disagrees, and rereads. The astrology I practice aligns with the verb “to signify.“
Ptolemy and astrology as a conjectural art
Ptolemy, taking a more technical approach, defends astrology at the beginning of the Tetrabiblos (2nd century) by comparing it to medicine: an art prone to error because there are too many variables—location, upbringing, the body, and customs. I find this impressively honest for a foundational text. The “father” of Western astrology did not promise certainty; he promised an interpretation with a margin of error.
Is astrology a science? What it is not
I need to be clear, because clarity protects my readers. When astrology was tested as a predictive science—for instance, in Shawn Carlson’s double-blind experiment published in Nature in 1985—astrologers failed to match personality profiles to birth charts at a rate better than chance. I do not hide this fact; I use it. If I were to sell astrology as a form of measurable prediction, I would be selling something it cannot deliver.
There is also the Forer effect, described by psychologist Bertram Forer in 1949: the tendency to recognize a sufficiently generic description as uniquely “ours.” Lazy astrology thrives on this. Serious astrology understands this mechanism so as to avoid falling prey to it.
How does astrology work as a symbolic language?
Italian semiotician Ugo Volli, in Il linguaggio dell’astrologia (1988; published in Portugal as *A Linguagem da Astrologia*), organized my thinking around a simple idea: astrology has a syntax.
| Map element | Function in the sentence | What does it ask? |
|---|---|---|
| Planets | Nouns | What is the function of the psyche? |
| Signs | Adjectives | How does she express herself? |
| Houses | Position of the phrase | Where—in what area of life? |
| Aspects | Relationships between words | Friction, harmony, or tension? |
An example reading: Saturn in Cancer in the 4th House.
When I read “Saturn in Cancer in the 4th House,” I do not read a sentence of destiny. I read a phrase: the function of boundaries (Saturn), clothed in care and memory (Cancer), operating within the territory of origin and family (4th House). This phrase does not tell me what will happen. It gives me the vocabulary to ask what has already happened—and how that still lives within me.
Volli further notes that astrology functions much like dreams and slips of the tongue: as a space for projection where a person articulates what they previously could not put into words. Jung arrived at a similar conclusion in his essay on synchronicity (1952), treating the natal chart as a symbolic image rather than a mechanism. The symbol acts as a bridge between what I experience and what I cannot yet name.
What does the birth chart have to do with family and lineage?
In my work with Family Constellations, I learned that no one is born into a vacuum. We are born into a system—father, mother, lineage, occupied places, and excluded places. The birth chart, read as a language, speaks the same tongue: the Moon converses with the experience of the mother; Saturn with the law and the father; the 4th House with roots; the 8th House with inheritances and deaths; and the 12th House with what has been forgotten.
A deterministic astrology would say, “You have this mother because you have this Moon.” I do not say that. I say: the Moon is a doorway to examine how motherhood came to me—and what aspects of my lineage are still asking for a place. The chart does not explain the family; it gives me a language with which to converse with it.
"When I stopped to look at my Moon in Leo in my chart, I saw that magnetic force—that visceral need to protect my own inner light, even when the surrounding landscape seemed dark. Looking at that planet ceased to be a technical analysis and became a crack in my perception. I was left with a question reverberating in my chest: how much of my quest for space and visibility is a desire of my soul, and how much is a stance taken to honor something that began long before me?"
Why does such an ancient language still resonate?
Reading the sky is one of humanity’s oldest practices: before it was a technique, it was how our ancestors made sense of time. There is also a hypothesis that informs my thinking: the brain operates through prediction and pattern recognition, constructing a continuous narrative of the self. This explains why rich symbolic language resonates—and why we fall for the Forer effect. It is not proof of astral influence. And, like any language, this one is learned only through humble, daily practice: first the alphabet, then sentences, and only then, poetry.
The light and shadow of astrology
Light is the vocabulary: giving form to what was diffuse, offering time and cycles to those who felt lost.
Shadow is the usage that offloads responsibility: “it’s my Mars,” “it’s Mercury retrograde.” Then language becomes an excuse, and the symbol meant to open up consciousness ends up closing it off. Astrology that instills fear—catastrophic predictions, fateful dates—is also shadow. That is not a reading. It is power over another.
Transition Code: the phrase of your sky
Fifteen minutes today. If you like, light a midnight-blue candle before you begin and extinguish it when you finish.
- Choose a single placement from your chart—preferably the Moon (sign and house).
- Write it as a statement: “My [planet] function expresses itself in a [sign] manner within the realm of the [house].”
- Right below, write a version as a sentence (“that is why I always…”) and another as a question (“where does this show up in my story with my mother, or with my lineage?”).
- Reread only the question. Sit with it throughout the day, without rushing to answer it.
Exit the sentence, enter the reading. And I leave you with my question: if the sky of your birth was a sentence written for you, and not against you, what sentence haven’t you learned to read yet?
Frequently Asked Questions
What is astrology, in a nutshell?
To me, astrology is a symbolic language. Planets, signs, houses, and aspects function as a grammar that gives names to human experiences: psychic functions, modes of expression, areas of life, and the relationships between them. It offers a vocabulary for interpreting stories with greater nuance.
Is astrology a science?
Not in the sense of predictive science. When tested as a predictive tool—such as in Shawn Carlson’s double-blind experiment published in *Nature* in 1985—the results did not exceed chance. I work with astrology as a language and a tool for reflection, not as a means of making measurable predictions. This distinction protects both me and those who come to me from promises that the practice cannot fulfill.
If astrology doesn't make predictions, what is the birth chart for?
The birth chart serves as a text for me to read. It offers images and words for questions I didn’t know how to formulate—about my mother, my father, boundaries, and ancestral legacies. Instead of telling me what will happen, it helps me look at what has already happened and how that still lives within me.
Do astrology and family constellations have a dialogue?
In my practice, they interact as languages rather than as proof of one another. The constellation reveals that we are born into a family system; the chart, when read symbolically, offers images representing that system: the Moon and the experience of the mother, Saturn and the law, and the 4th, 8th, and 12th houses and the lineage. Neither replaces medical or psychological care.
Take this reading to a session.
If you wish to view your chart as a language—and hear what it reveals about your lineage—I invite you to an INTEOR session, where astrology combines with constellation work and deep listening. Book here: Consultations
This is Part 1 of the Astrology series. In Part 2, I return to the origins—from Mesopotamia to Hellenistic astrology—to explore the history of astrology. If the theme of family resonates with you, read the story of Bert Hellinger.